The Pylon Encounter
by ErodunKealSPN
Summary: Set before Sam and Dean knew anything of angels. The story is short and imply's that even long before Dean went to Hell, Castiel was watching over him.


**Sorry I haven't been uploading much guys. College is coming up and I've got to sort out my future :D **  
><strong>More stories to come though, I'm not stopping completely, i love writing way too much for that XD<strong>

**-**

"Dean give it a rest, this is basically harassment, you know that right?"

Sam stood by the wooden pylon staring up at his 'older' brother who happened to be having a blundering climb towards the electrical container located at the top.  
>This was completely ludicrous. Sam couldn't remember the last time Dean went this deep into a persona. All that was necessary for them to do was introduce themselves, get the information needed and leave again but his maniac of a brother had to offer to fix the electric didn't he. He always did like to impress the ladies.<br>It didn't matter to him that he knew nothing about electrical wiring.

"Quiet down Sammy, I got this"

When Sam opened his mouth to argue Dean intervened before the first word was spoken.

"Chill Mrs Prissy, everything's fine."

The realisation hit Sam as it clicked to why his brother was going to such lengths. He didn't want to fix the electrics, he wanted to have another one of his 'famous' one night stands with the girl they had just met.  
>She was a young blonde who, like every other member of the opposite sex, took a shine to his brother almost instantly. Typical Dean Winchester.<p>

Sam stared down at the ground, there was no point in arguing with him, no matter how appalling his brothers behaviour was at the time. Leaving Dean to his business he walked to the nearest building and slouched against the wall reaching into the side pocket of his tattered jeans. Bobby would want to know about the newest update to the case. It was a pretty straight forward job. Another Poltergeist. Sam hadn't come into contact with one of those since he last saw his mother. Mary had given her last strength to protect him. Again?

Just moments later a distant yell echoed through the darkened streets. Sam hung up the phone and carelessly slipped out of the shadows to his brothers aid, gun at the ready, lowered as to avoid any prying eyes from the streets habitants.  
>The sight laid out before him suggested Dean making his way down the pylon only to slip and loose his grip on the bars. He couldn't have fallen more than a few metres, still his brother looked unconscious as Sam knelt down at Deans side.<p>

The younger Winchester was about to lift Deans body when the older Winchesters eyes snapped open.  
>There was no emotion other than innocent confusion in the forest green eyes staring up at him. His gaze lingered slowly to the right. Sam followed this and saw only a deserted side walk.<p>

Dean however saw the complete opposite of darkness.  
>A man stood over him that for once was not his Sammy. This man was young, wore a dirty Trench coat and a loose blue tie. The unusual outfit seemed to fit him perfectly. He possessed raven hair glinting from the far away street lights and deep blue eyes that caught whatever light was around.<p>

The man standing over him looked confused. Almost frightened to be looking directly into the eyes of the hunter.

Dean was fighting for consciousness but eventually his eyes slipped shut once again, the man disappearing with an almost comforting sound of feathers and the flap of his long coat.

**_**

Dean Winchester slowly re-opened his eyes, the surroundings flooding his vision with light, sending a pounding through the back of his skull. A groan slipped from his lips as he examined the space around him. He was in the Blue Clam, their motel room. He seemed to remember something and searched for it almost instantly. The man with the blue eyes was no where in sight. Just Sammy. His Sammy, with the familiar look of concern etched on his features.

Dean smiled at his little brother deciding to keep this one to himself.


End file.
